


Bring Me Back to Life

by creosote



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Crossover, Dwarf, Fantasy, Gen, Hobbit, Hobbitjohn, Hobbitlock, London, Mild Gore, Smauglock, dragon - Freeform, i think, ooc, totally ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creosote/pseuds/creosote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being seperated from his precious ring, Bilbo Baggins leaves Middle Earth to go to London, changes his name to John Watson and starts looking for a flatmate. The one he finds turns out to be an old, well, friend.</p><p>This little story was inspired by the top one of the two pictures you can find here: http://brilcrist.tumblr.com/post/47740975732/brilandsurrounding-brilcrist-continuity-from<br/>Behind this link you can also find another link to another fic thats Smaug/Thorin. Check it out! Anyway. Thanks to the artist of this picture, brilcrist, for inspiring me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unexpected Flatmate

**Author's Note:**

> Just something that formed in my head and wanted to get out. Hope you have fun!

Bilbo John Watson-Baggins had been looking for a new flat for quite a while now. His old one was dark and depressing and he hadn't seen it because in his head everything was dark and depressing. He couldn't forget the war, the war that shaped him and hurt him and drove him from his comfortable, homely hole in Middle Earth for the second and last time of his life. The first time had been his adventure, the great adventure that had introduced him to a bunch of dwarves and all kinds of other creatures, even a dragon - though unlike the story that had gone around the world the dragon hadn't been killed but just really badly hurt and then vanished. 

The adventure, however, had not destroyed Bilbo. The war had. The ring had.

A long time after his return from the adventure, when Frodo went out on his, Bilbo first felt the absence of the ring. It had slept in the back of his mind, sometimes awakened and forced him, as he now knew, to put it on. But then Frodo went to take the ring to Mordor, to Mount Doom to destroy it, Bilbo felt a need to save it - a need he did not want to feel. He ignored it, which was probably for the best, thinking of Frodo and how he had to have his own adventure.  
The destroying of the ring was, as expected, no easy task. Bilbo wasn't even surprised when he heard that there was a war - the elves told him. He was at Rivendell at that time, and the ring had kept him young, so despite the efforts of the elves to keep him he was soon drawn into the war by forces he did not understand, and also by the plea of many races involved in the war for help from the elves.

When he went into the war, he thought that he might never come back to his hole in Hobbiton, but he was wrong about the reason. He fought in the war, and though he'd killed creatures before, this felt wrong. He felt like fighting for the wrong side, the wrong cause, he didn't know what he was fighting for anyways at some point. His mind knew that the ring was a bad thing had to be destroyed, but something inside him pushed that thought away too many times.  
It was not the killing that made Bilbo Baggins rethink his life, it was his consciousness that told him wrong. And when it was over, when the ring was destroyed and its presence once and for all gone, Bilbo knew he had to leave this land and start over, sorting out his mind. So when the elves left, he went with them - just not all the way.

They dropped him off in a very different place, a place on a continent called Europe. He eventually ended up in a city called London, a place uniting so many different beings (humans, stray dwarves and elves, a few things he couldn't identify) that a half-human half-hobbit man did not attract much attention. He took on his studies again and learned a lot about medicine which was one of the few things that still interested him. With help of the Post Middle Earth War Support Group he could get a small monthly income that was just enough to keep him alive. Eventually he changed his name, or more accurately started mainly using the part of his name his human mother had given him, and rethought his life again - it was time to leave the war behind, really behind, get a job and maybe a better flat. If only he could find one he could afford. 

It so happed that he was sitting on a park bench one day studying flats in his newspaper, as a colleague from med school approached him.  
"Hey John! Long time no see! Everything ok?"  
"Hey. Yeah I guess. Rents could be lower though."  
"Oh yeah? Looking for a place?"  
"Yeah...but that won't work out very soon."  
"Why not?"  
"No job yet, so I can't really afford anything... Sharing would be cool with be but I don't know anyone to share with..."  
The colleague slightly moved his head. "Uh, well, if you're up to meeting new people, I know someone with the exact same problem."  
John looked up. "Are you serious? Sure, why not?"  
So it was arranged that John and the flat-seeking stranger were to meet the next day at two o'clock in the afternoon - the address was 221B Baker Street. 

As John arrived, precise as a real Englishman would be, the stranger was already standing in front of the door, looking at it and therefore having turned his back to John. John could see he was wearing a long red coat covering most of his body, and that he had really really broad, bulky shoulders. His hair was black or maybe dark brown, and he had claws for hands and feet. This was unusual, even for a place like London.  
"Hello", John said carefully, "I'm...John Watson."  
"Dr. John Watson, isn't that right?"  
John hesitated. The stranger had spoken, and something about his voice stirred a memory.  
"Have we met before?", he asked quickly. The stranger turned around.  
"Why, do you remember me from somewhere?"  
John looked at him closely. Something seemed familiar, but he was quite sure that he had never seen that face before. It was a very charming face, a red streak of hair running through it beside all the blackness of the rest if his hair, and John would have remembered it.  
"No. I...I must be mistaken. Uhm, can we start again?"  
The stranger showed a slight smile. "Maybe we should. Hello. My name is Sherlock Holmes, I am interested in renting this flat, but can not afford it alone. You seem to have the same problem, Doctor, which is only natural since the Post Middle Earth War Support Group does indeed not pay very well."  
"That is true! They should..." John stopped short. "Wait. Has my colleague told you?"  
Sherlock Holmes smiled again. "No. It is quite obvious."  
John looked down on him and saw nothing obvious about it, but before he could ask further questions the owner of the house, Mrs. Hudson, undoubtedly an elf with maybe a touch of human blood in her, opened the door.  
"Hello my dear fellows, come in! Tea's ready if you want any."  
They were showed up into the flat and looked at the bedrooms before having tea, in any case John did so, because Sherlock Holmes only had a quick look at the rooms, said something like "I agree if you do" to John and left without further comments. John sat down with Mrs. Hudson who served tea with elvish grace and talked to her. She told him that she was in fact elvish, but somehow human blood had been mixed with hers so she felt more empathy with them than perhaps many elves do. As for Sherlock Holmes, she had known him for a little while now but didn't really know anything about him, he wasn't the type for being known well. But in general, he was a good fellow.  
So John found himself agreeing to a rent he could afford and soon moving in with a stranger. 

Having packed his few belongings very quickly, John moved into the flat in 221B Baker Street as soon as he could. Sherlock Holmes had been living there for a few days by then, so John just claimed the empty bedroom for himself, unpacked and just had a cup of tea when his flatmate came home.  
"Oh, you're here."  
"Well, I do live here now."  
"Yeah, good. I needed you anyways."  
"What?"  
"You're a doctor with experience in both war and depression so you'll be useful."  
"Useful? What? How could you...?"  
"I'll explain later. Come on now, get in the cab."

"Now is later.", he said when they were driving. The destination was unknown to him, the driver seemed to have known where they were going so Sherlock Holmes must have told him before going to get John, which in turn meant he must have known he was in the flat. Well, he would know, he was the flatmate after all. Mrs. Hudson had told him, probably.  
"What? Oh right, explanations. Well, your shoes told me."  
"Uhm, what?"  
"You're obviously a medical man since you have the smell of various chemicals on you. You can't be a scientist, your fingers would be more burnt if you were. Also, your war experience which I can deduce from your posture and from the muscles on the right side of your body - they are slightly more defined because you were holding a sword regularly for a long time. They also tell me that you are right-handed. Now, the depression can be seen in your clean, but unevenly shaved face and your washed, but already wrecked clothes you never cared to exchange. Together with the war experience it makes a really nice picture, don't you think?"  
John stared at him. "That's...I never noticed that."  
"Of course not. You're you."  
"And who are you?"  
Sherlock Holmes, who had talked without so much as turning his head towards John, now looked at him.  
"You'll see that in a minute." 

The car stopped. John had not watched the road so he was slightly confused at first, then he realized they stood right in front of Hammersmith station.  
"Why are we here?", he asked without really expecting an answer, for a dwarf had approached them and now started talking to Sherlock Holmes.  
"Took you long enough to get here this time! And I see you've brought something?"  
'Something' obviously referred to John which slightly upset him, but the next moment the dwarf was introduced to him as detective inspector Lestrade and he forgot to be upset when he heard why there was a policeman calling Sherlock Holmes.  
"We do need your help, Sherlock", Lestrade the dwarf said, "this time it's a bear."  
"An exceptionally large one?"  
"Yes."  
"That was to be expected. Show me the victim."  
They were lead into an old building close to the station, right up to the top floor. A huge bear was lying in the middle of one of the room, Again, something stirred in John's memory, but he ignored it.  
Sherlock Holmes started investigating the body, looking at anything he could find, until he stood up and waved John to come into the room.  
"What do you see?"  
John looked. Something was odd.  
"There's no blood, no wound, nothing..."  
Sherlock Holmes nodded. "That is correct. Now look at that wall over there."  
John looked again and saw smears on that wall, smears that looked very much like blood. As he looked closer, he saw that it was not smears, but writing.  
"It's some kind of elvish - I can't read it", he said, turning his head back to Holmes.  
As a matter of fact, he could read elvish - just not in the state that this writing was in. But he did not want his new flatmate to know everything about him at once.  
"Yes you can", said Holmes, destroying John's little hope for a secret, "you just don't want to."  
Now John got slightly angry again. "Well, how in the world did you deduce that?"  
"I didn't", came the answer that left him even more confused than before. But at that very moment he realized that the missing blood wasn't the only thing odd about this crime scene, assuming it was a crime scene.  
"Why, the victim's a skinchanger!", he exclaimed before he knew what he was doing. Holmes once again showed his tiny smile, only this time it as if he had just found the final proof for something.  
"You might be right", said an astonished Lestrade who had been watching the scene, "that would explain so many things, I-" but Holmes cut him off.  
"Lestrade, I think you can find a good amount of clues by yourself now. Very good, Bilbo Baggins, very good", he added quietly. At first, John grinned about the compliment. Then he noticed.  
"What? Who by the fires of Mordor are you?", he hissed, and again that smile appeared. The thing in the back of his mind stirred again.  
"Let's go home, friend", Holmes said, "you will know."


	2. Confusion of Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo John discoveres more about his flatmate and stumbles into a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written over a long period of time so please point out any inconsistencies so I can fix them. Goes for other errors too of course!

The ride home was one of the most confusing things in John's life which is important because he had been on an adventure and in a war, and still he felt like this was even more disturbing because of the mysterious Holmes sitting next to him, not ready to say anything until they were at home, and the still poking memory in the back of his mind that he was desperately trying to figure out. Finally they arrived back at 221B Baker Street and got out of the car. Still Holmes was silent. They went up into the flat and John put his jacket on the hook and his shoes underneath it. As he turned, he saw that Holmes had already hung up his coat and vanished into the living room.  
Sherlock Holmes was sitting on the table (not at it, on top of it) when John closed the living room door. This was done slowly and in a kind of daze, for at that very moment John saw what Holmes had been hiding under the bulks in his coat. He had wings on his back.  
One, maybe two seconds after that realization the thing poking John's mind finally found its way into his consciousness. He remembered the dragon very well, how could he? A gigantic beast he had been, magnificent but fearsome, and they had had a few more pleasant conversations and also quite a few more life threatening ones - before the dragon attacked laketown and afterwards vanished. Bilbo John remembered the relief he felt at the sight of the fleeing dragon and the hope for never seeing him again. Of course he could not have anticipated a meeting like this at all, ever.  
Still John refused. He knew it was true, had to be, he now remembered those eyes which hadn't changed. But much else had.  
"No", he said, "not possible. Smaug is black. You're red."  
"I used to be black indeed until I was hit by that arrow. I got out alive but the wound was to consume me – the only choice I had was to burn the infected parts of my body. That left me in the shape you now see before you, thanks to my human blood." John stared. "Yes, dragons can have human blood, just a little, they can have a donkeys blood for all it's worth." Smaug Sherlock Holmes lowered his gaze. "I came here, took a new name, hide the wings. They're about the only thing left of me. No more fire breathing, my insides would burn if I did. And I do want to live a little longer."  
Despite what John Bilbo wanted to believe, he knew that what the dragon said was true. It was the things that had remained, voice, eyes, claws that told him.  
Smaug Sherlock Holmes was smiling again. He seemed to read John's face like an open book. "Good. Since we've cleared that up we might as well talk about the case."  
"Wait. Stop. Hold it. Doesn't it seem weird to you that two old enemies like us should just go and share a flat? A place to live in? How do I know you won't just rip me open with those claws of yours when I'm asleep?"  
"Why would I? You helped those wretched dwarves, yes, but you seemed interesting enough. YOU did not shoot that arrow at me, and besides, you pay half the rent. Plus, I'm interested in your sorts. You might yet be useful. So, any further questions? Good. I will need you to stay focused."  
"On what?"  
"The case, lad, the case! Now, tell me what you know about skinchangers."  
Slightly dazzled, John thought about that. "There's only one in Middle Earth I know of", he finally answered, "and he told me he was the last."  
"He is indeed - in Middle Earth. Over here, there are a couple of them left, and someone obviously wants to change that. Have you heard about the Beastly Murders, as the newspapers so creatively call them?"  
John shook his head. He hadn't read or watched any news lately.  
"The one we saw today was the fourth creature found dead in the last couple of weeks. They all are of different backgrounds and there is nothing whatsoever linking them, except that they all were creatures from Middle Earth. Therefore he'll be running low in victims soon. Who knows what he's planning after he's exterminated them all."  
"Well someone should catch him before..."  
"That's what we're going to do."  
John narrowed his eyes. "We? Why would you do anything for anyone? You're the dragon who stole a whole mountain from its inhabitants and forced them to live in exile for three generations! You don't just do stuff for others!"  
Smaug Sherlock dropped off the table. "What do you know about me?"  
His voice had gone really really deep and growling, the kind that makes every hair on your body stand straight and sets a shiver down your spine. John took a step back.  
"And besides", Smaug Sherlock added, now calmer, "it would be a shame if such interesting creatures vanished from this planet, wouldn't it?"  
"Y-Yes..."  
Well then, it's settled. You'll be of some help, I think."  
"I...hope so?"  
"Yes, I do too. Now, let's enjoy our dinner and finish talking later."  
Smaug Sherlock was a really well-mannered dragon. He did not use a knife but cut the meat with his claws and picked it up with another claw before carefully chewing, enjoying every bite.  
"What", he said to the staring John, "never seen a dragon eat before? Ah, probably not. We not all vicious beasts, you know."  
"But...you are a vicious beast." John answered before he could think. Smaug Sherlock only laughed.  
After dinner, John got his pipe and sat down in one of the comfortable armchairs. Sherlock, now all investigator, sat in the second one with his legs crossed and seemed to be in deep thought. John smoked his pipe and waited.  
The doorbell rang. "Ah! There comes our visitor. Be so kind as to pull that armchair over there to oppose the other two while I go open the door."  
John obeyed, and even though the armchair was heavy he could manage to place it just in time for the visitor’s arrival.  
She was the most magnificent creature Bilbo John Watson-Baggins had ever seen in his life. She was an elf, obviously; he had seen elves before, beautiful ones, but never anyone like her. Her hair was long and of a hazel colour, her face was the most delicate thing he could imagine and the wrath in her eyes was hotter than dragon fire.  
"Why am I here again? I can NOT afford to lose time right now, dragon, because as you very well know someone is killing living beings and I will not allow that! So tell me right now, why am I here? Mother would be furious if she knew I turn up at your doorstep when you call, just like any ordinary dog! I hope for your sake that you have really important news for me!"  
"Of course. But first, meet my new colleague and flatmate, Dr. Bilbo John Watson-Baggins. John, this is Lady Mariel Morsthan."  
The lady turned her head to look at John, and her eyes somewhat softened when she saw the expression on his face.  
"H-Hello, uh, I mean, it's a pleasure to meet you, my dear lady, uh, your dear lady, uh, no, well, I'm deeply honoured to make your acquaintance", he mumbled, staring at her beauty. Luckly for him, she was not offended but somewhat amused, so she just nodded with the tiniest of smiles and sat down in the chair John had prepared for her.  
"Lady Mariel is our main lead on the killings, she knows every enemy of the people of Middle Earth and their friends as well. My lady, it is as we have feared."  
The lady jumped back up. "Oh dear, no! Are you quite sure?"  
"Positive."  
"This is horrible! Do you have proof?"  
"We will not need any."  
"What!"  
"I have a plan, and it involves our new friend here."  
"What could a hobbit do to help us?" she cried, and as she did, John asked himself the same question. What could a little hobbit like him do for a woman like her?  
“Not for her, John, for the case! Here’s the plan. We-“  
The doorbell rang. “Another guest?” John asked, but by the look on Sherlock’s face he could tell they weren’t expecting anyone else.  
“No, shhh” Sherlock answered, and they listened.  
“Yes?” They heard Mrs. Hudson’s voice say, she’d answered the door.  
“Good morning! I am here to see Mr. Sherlock Holmes”, answered a voice John had never heard before – but Sherlock and Mariel had. Even when confused she looked so, so beautiful. Though confused wasn’t quite the right word – worried, yes, that was better. Sherlock looked the same way, except more excited.  
“Get into that closet, John, now” he hissed as he pulled John towards the closet. John didn’t even have time to say “what” before he was in the closet and the door of 221B opened.  
“Good morning Mr. Holmes” the voice said, “oh! And Miss Morsthan, of course. Good to finally meet you again, lady, after all this chasing and searching and…am I right?” The voice was smiling. An evil smile, John could tell by the way he talked. It was a he; maybe between 30 and 40. Or something. Depending on the species.  
“Moraarti. How…good to see you again.” the beauty’s voice answered. Someone sat down, someone else put tea on the table, spoons clinked.  
“Ah, my dear Mariel. I know our last meeting wasn’t exactly…pleasant. But are you sure you want to do this? Accuse me of multiple murders? Please.” A sip of tea. “That is not what you want to do.”  
“Yes it is.” Her voice was very calm. “I know it was you.”  
“You think it was me, my love, what you think and what you know have always been unclear to you. I remember.”  
“Not anymore” she answered, “not now. Not this time.”  
“Ah, and here we have the reason. A half-dragon. Nice choice. Filthy creatures, dragons are. But since you dropped me I couldn’t expect very high standards from you.”  
“My dear Moraarti, it would be a great help if you stopped talking nonsense” Sherlock said, “and started talking business. Now, we know for a fact that it is you who kills those people. The question is why.”  
“Oh yes indeed, the question is why. Why should I answer you? You seem so determined to pin me down for this, why don’t you find out yourself? I have prepared a nice little game for you, and if you play along, you might just find something you like. So, here.” The room was quiet for a short while.  
“Moraarti, what on…”  
“No! No, Sherlock, don’t spoil it. You take out all the fun. Now, if that was all, I will leave. And it was all, I need to be home for dinner. Bye!” And the door closed. Again, silence in the room.  
“John” Sherlock’s voice said, “It’s time to come out of the closet.”  
John hopped out and examined the object on the table. It was an apple. Someone had carved the letters IOU into it.  
“What does that mean?” he asked but didn’t expect an answer which was good because he didn’t get one.  
“We don’t know…exactly” Mariel said, hesitating. “But since Sherlock trusts you, I might as well do the same.” John sat down. Moraarti’s teacup was still standing on the table right in front of him.  
“Moraarti is one of the most dangerous creatures you will ever meet. He looks young, but he was born (if you can call it that) a long, long, long time before any of us. He was one of Morgoth’s most loyal servants, only exceeded in loyalty by Sauron.” John Bilbo shuddered. “Sauron’s loyalty to Morgoth overshadowed anything Moraarti could do to impress his Master, so he left to explore foreign lands, as they say, but never came back and was forgotten. Before that, he made an allegiance with the dragons.”  
Smaug Sherlock took over the narration at that point. “We do not quite share family bonds like your kind does. We like to be left alone. The dragons had scattered all over Middle Earth and he went and found every single one of them. With my help.” He paused. “I told him where to go. I thought he was fun, such a tiny little mind, entirely devoted to the cause. Turns out I was wrong, I underestimated him. He could think on his own and had ambitions I never expected. So when I came to London and heard of the happenings, I didn’t think about them much. But I am of a curious nature, and those murders seemed to be quite an endearing little puzzle.   
He reacted almost immediately. The day after I had started to get involved with the police they called me to another crime scene. It was a dwarf, so Lestrade was particularly agitated about it. However, the really interesting thing about it was that he was in a glass case sort of floating in his own blood and that the glass case had the words “Get Smaug” drawn on them with lipstick, the dwarf’s own. When I got there I recognized his handwriting immediately, so I called up our friend here.”  
“I am the ambassador of the Middle Earth Emigrants Support Group which I am sure you have never heard of because we are secret. We do pay your income though. But that’s not important! When Smaug, pardon me, Sherlock called I went out immediately to see his evidence. It seemed very obvious but also very ridiculous, why would Moraarti want to get the attention of a dragon who helped him oh so many years ago? He is not in need of help now, that much is sure. We still do not know, but we might have some new clues to look at.” She held up the apple. “What does he owe you for, Sherlock?”  
“I helped him find the dragons”, Sherlock answered, “I did nothing else.”  
“Then that must be it. But why kill people from Middle Earth over here? How is that helping you?”  
“I don’t know. It’s not like I have any special relations or anything.”   
He said that in a tone John couldn’t quite figure out. He didn’t exactly look or sound sad, more like somewhat distracted.   
“Well then. Before this little… interlude… you mentioned a plan. What is your plan? And how can Bilbo John here help us?”   
Sherlock smiled now. “Oh, I believe he will play quite an important part…”


	3. The Battle of Four Forces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling resolution to the (not really) most exciting three part fanfic in history.

Bilbo Baggins had collected some experience on the battlefield. He knew what it was like to be one of so, so many soldiers out on the field fearing for his life. He knew how to encounter an enemy that was greater, in numbers and might, than anyone could imagine – or he thought he did, at least he’d done it before. But this was not a war between armies, it was a war between just a few people and Moraarti. And the spot he was standing in wasn’t on a battlefield, it was beside a swimming pool.  
John Watson did not think that he missed the army. He’d put his life on the line and doing that once in a lifetime is enough, he thought. But when Smaug Sherlock offered him the part he was now playing it took him less than a second to say “oh my god yes, let’s do that”. And now he was feeling scared and nervous and finally alive again.  
He really hoped Moraarti would show up, but Smaug Sherlock had said that he would take care of that. He knew just the right words to get Moraarti interested enough to meet in an odd place to meet a stranger who might or might not have information about the dragon he wanted to slay, and he would always be interested in expanding his information network, or spiderweb, as Sherlock liked to call it. Mariel had not been convinced by the plan, she objected that Moraarti would probably know it was a trap and just show up prepared or not at all. She was, in fact, almost certain he’d not even believe any of Sherlock’s little letter. Sherlock just smiled and said “I certainly hope so.” All this lead to Dr. Bilbo John Watson-Baggins standing beside the swimming pool Sherlock had chosen as the meeting location. John Bilbo did not see exactly what his plan was, but he didn’t care all that much. He really only cared about the excitement and maybe a little about impressing Lady Mariel Morsthan.  
There were steps on the other side of the pool; they were surprisingly light, as if they didn’t belong to a monster on a killing spree. Moraarti himself didn’t look like he might be a monster on a killing spree, he looked more like an IT guy from some large company, the type you smile at and forget the next moment. Except for that smile; not so much the polite one on his lips, but the one in his eyes. It was entirely calm and murderous at the same time.  
“So you are the bait”, Moraarti said quietly, studying John for just a moment. “Oh, but where have my manners gone? Yim Moraarti, hi.” He kept smiling that polite smile, but John didn’t take his eyes off the others. Couldn’t.  
“Uhm, I’m John”, he said, trying to keep his voice steady. Moraarti looked so nice and sweet and John was scared like never before in his life.  
“I know”, Moraarti answered, and his voice was soft and mesmerizing. He looked at John for another moment and turned around. “Smaugi, come out come out! No need to put your little friend here in more trouble than necessary.”  
John wanted to answer, but behind him Smaug Sherlock’s deep growly dragon voice said: “It’s okay. I’m over here.”  
John took a step to the side, Sherlock took one to the front, and there they were, standing in a perfect little triangle. Moraarti had shifted his focus on to Sherlock and seemed to have completely forgotten that John was there.  
“We meet again, then!” he said, lifting his head. The smile on his lips widened, the one in his eyes might have incinerated Smaug Sherlock if he hadn’t himself been a creature of fire. Smaug Sherlock stretched a bit and yawned, thus causing Moraarti to show the first hints of anger.  
“You’re taking this very lightly” he said, lips still smiling, eyes suspicious.  
“Yup” said Smaug Sherlock just as Mariel hit Moraarti on the head with a big metal pipe and he fainted. 

“Bloody hell! What just happened?” John Bilbo heard himself saying that. Mariel and a dwarf police squad tied up Moraarti and carried the still unconscious monster out of the pool hall.  
“It worked quite well, didn’t it?” Smaug Sherlock said with a smile. “He was so convinced I’d keep playing his little game like the drama queen I am that he just didn’t really expect the police to turn up. He might have watched too much TV, too. But an anti-climax once in a while is good for my aging dragon heart.”  
Bilbo John still wasn’t sure what to think. Mariel smiled.  
“Thanks for the cooperation and the distraction”, she said to him and went after the police squad, leaving Bilbo John and Smaug Sherlock alone in the pool hall.  
“That wasn’t what I expected” Bilbo John said, voice shaking.  
“I know”, Smaug Sherlock purred, “you expected big drama and maybe someone dying and maybe me falling into the pool taking Moraarti with me thus killing us both but maybe I’d turn up again in, say, two years and it turns out I wasn’t dead at all and neither was Moraarti and we could continue the chase after you’d married Mariel. Right?”  
Bilbo John stared at him.  
“Halflings always have been very predictable. That was Moraarti’s mistake – he didn’t think you were of any importance.”  
“Well, I wasn’t, was I?”  
“Yes, you were! You should know about Moraarti that his senses are almost perfect. I am not sure what kind of creature he is, but he is perceptive, and dangerously so. By having a hobbit stand beside him, he'd think all noises made were coming from you, and simply ignore them. The pool hall seemed like a good choice, the echo slightly distorted his hearing, just enough toput him off track. Additionally, his weakness is the fact that he is, or maybe was, too convinced of himself and his knowledge of other people, so he didn’t expect me to back off and let the police do their thing. It is a major difference between the two of us – I do not seek public attention and credit for my actions. I simply had fun watching a little hobbit like you standing there trembling ever so slightly. But if I’m not wrong, and I’m usually right, you enjoyed that.”  
Bilbo John was still in shock, but he agreed.  
“Great! Now that that’s settled, dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like anti-climaxes. 
> 
> Bilbo John and Smaug Sherlock still live in 221B together and have many adventures. Moraarti is in jail trying to figure out how to get out. He probably will, sooner or later.


End file.
